The night had fully settled over Seabourne, turning the harbor into a mirror of twinkling lights. From the moment I stepped into the KATURO Maritime Gala, I felt swallowed by a world that wasn't mine. Crystal chandeliers hung like captured stars, their reflections bouncing across the polished floors. Laughter, music, and the low hums of deals being made filled the room.
Every glance, every whisper seemed to carry power, and I was just a shadow in the corner, a waitress moving between tables, trays balancing in our hands.
Richard stayed close, nudging me when I lingered too long or when a glass nearly toppled. "Careful," he muttered, his voice low. I nodded, forcing a smile, pretending I wasn't acutely aware of the world of wealth spinning around me. But I was paying attention which was a strategy I have come to learn over time.
Every word, every gesture, every laugh. I wanted to learn. One day, I would know how to turn this power into my own. My dream of starting a fashion brand had to start somewhere, and tonight was my school.
I weaved past a group of investors, ears catching fragments of conversations. Textile mergers. Luxury brand acquisitions. Supply chain restructures. CEOs talking as if the world was a spreadsheet. I memorized every term, imagining how I could apply it to my own business, with a mental note of writing it down when I get home.
Richard's tray bumped mine slightly, and I turned to meet his eyes. No words were needed; he understood why I was here.
But I couldn't ignore the other feeling. I felt him before I saw him, though I hadn't even met him. The billionaire king everyone whispered about. People softened around him, conversations slowed, laughter muted. I saw how people wanted to start up conversations with him, I said ladies how edge closer to him. His presence carried weight without a single word. I had only heard rumors, no one crossed him, not even the most powerful families, but there he was, somewhere beyond the crowd, making everything else fade.
I tried to focus on my duties, my mahir assignment here. Across the room, I caught glimpses of him in fleeting reflections, or maybe it was my imagination. His aura was impossible to ignore. He didn't see me, at least, I hoped he didn't.
Richard handed me a tray of hors d'oeuvres, and I smiled faintly. "Thanks," I murmured. He gave me a small shrug, his eyes sharp, scanning the room for potential spills or disasters. I was grateful for him, always. He was the tether keeping me from drifting into panic under the glittering pressure.
I moved closer to a table where a group of women discussed fashion lines in low, urgent tones. One mentioned a textile merger with a European supplier. I made a mental note, imagining the fabrics, the stitching, the possibilities. This knowledge, these whispers of the industry's heartbeat, could be mine one day. And if I played this right… I wouldn't just survive. I would rise.
Occasionally, I stole glances toward him again. He hadn't approached anyone close enough to notice me yet, and I made sure my hands were steady, my back straight. He was immaculate,sharp suit, posture like a king, every movement deliberate, every glance a statement. It was maddening how a man I hadn't even met could command a room without a word.
As I walked past tables, I collected small bundles of leftover delicacies. A tiny rebellion against Lydia's greed, she had warned me earlier to bring enough food.
At least my family would taste this night, even if it was crumbs compared to the luxury surrounding me. I tucked them carefully into my apron, careful not to spill a single morsel.
Time passed, the gala's energy rising with each toast, each whisper of power deals, each laugh laced with arrogance. And still, I hadn't truly met him. But the pull, the subtle tension, followed me wherever I went. Every step, every delivery of food, every polite nod from a guest was a reminder that I was an observer in a world I wanted to conquer.
I paused near the bar to refill a tray, heart still racing. A group of executives discussed an acquisition worth millions, and I listened like it was a secret lesson. This, I thought, was why I endured the exhaustion, the humiliation, the endless hours. Every word here was a brick in the foundation of my future.
And yet… my eyes kept drifting. Across the room, his presence lingered, a quiet storm. I caught a brief glance of his profile reflected in a glass, perfect, poised, terrifyingly untouchable. I looked away immediately, hoping I hadn't lingered too long. My chest thumped, betraying my composure. I couldn't stop thinking that perhaps I would never truly meet him, that maybe our lives would remain on parallel paths, his world untouchable by someone like me.
But still, I wanted to see him again, even if it was just a glimpse. Even if it was a stolen glance. Even if that was all we would ever have in this life.
I adjusted my tray, pretending my hands weren't trembling, and reminded myself: tonight wasn't about him. Tonight was about learning, observing, surviving, and building the first brick of a dream that no billionaire, no stepmother, and no harsh world
could ever take from me.